Conversation
by Adverb Slut
Summary: When Sophie enters Gethen's mind for some hardcore interrogation, she expects to uncover some shady secrets. Instead, she finds that the former Neverseen agent is actually a brilliant conversationalist. "What would you know about 'enough company? Last time I checked, back in the Forbidden Cities, you were known as 'Friendless Foster'." Or maybe not. ONESHOT.


**Hi, guys! I was just rereading _Lodestar_ and** **Gethen's character really interested me. He reminds me of a mix of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Gin Ichimaru from _Bleach_. So yeah, I decided to write about him.**

 **I do not own the _Keeper of the Lost Cities_ series.**

 **To set the scene, Sophie is in Gethen's mind and she got trapped in one of his um ... traps. If I get any details wrong, please forgive me. I'm human and _very_ apt to make mistakes. :) Also, please note that this was before Sophie recieved her skill as an Enhancer. To put it into perspective, this is a remake of the scene when she met Gethen with Oralie, but substitute Fitz for Oralie ... that made sense, right?  
**

 **Warning: this story contains swearing. And _Lodestar_ spoilers.**

* * *

 _Stuck, now, are we?_ Gethen's mental voice was as metallic and harsh as his real one.

When Sophie had first plunged into the distorted world that was the captured Neverseen agent's mind (trying to wrench free a few secrets for the Black Swan) she had been opalescently confident that she could wade through his mental rivers of madness without falling into any of his mental traps or become utterly annihilated. The latter, though the thought of it was scary, was far from inevitable—Fitz and Mr. Forkle were hovering over her physical body, ready to channel any and all of their mental energy should they have sensed a disturbance.

Sophie groaned, trying to untangle her mind from the web-like telepathic barrier Gethen had surrounding his thoughts with so that he could only broadcast the ones that he wanted. _No_ , she replied, struggling to unhook herself from an unsurprisingly persistent tangle. She tried to make her mental voice sound more confident that she felt. _I have you right where I want you_.

Gethen's voice sounded amused. _Oh, really?_ He laughed—a mirthless sound. _Where you wanted_ me _was to be watching_ you _fumble through the superiority of my mind? How sweet.  
_

She gritted her teeth in frustration. _You can cut the act_ —a cheer nearly escaped her thoughts as she freed herself from the knot, only to be shrouded in a new one— _Fintan's abandoned you. Why else do you think no one's come back for a jailbreak?_

 _You're stupider than you look_. His mental grin made Sophie shudder. _Clearly, the Black Swan's expectations for you weren't high enough_.

Sophie ignored the jibe, choosing instead to build up a shield of mental energy, wrapping it around herself like a bonafide blanket burrito. She tried to recall the plan that Mr. Forkle had given her. He had said distraction was key. It was best to keep Gethen talking and focused on her alone, while her mind explored his. _And_ clearly, _the Neverseen expected more from_ you. _You failed them, Gethen_ — _getting captured by a bunch of kids?_ _They_ _don't want you anymore._

There was a slight hitch in the man's voice, but it remained as nonchalant as ever. Sophie praised herself for striking a nerve. _I could say the same for you. Supposedly Project Moonlark was the Black Swan's 'pièce de résistance'._ He snorted, and Sophie's barrier melted into the environment. _Pièce de résistance, my ass._ _All they've come up with is an expendable little girl who they can use as bait to poke into other peoples' minds_ _._

Pièce de résistance? That was a human term, wasn't it? How did Gethen know—

 _French. I took French._

A flash of surprise struck Sophie like a wayward lightning bolt. _You can read my thoughts?  
_

The web-like structure of his mind condensed, and Sophie felt herself choking as one stubborn thread ensnared her neck. She sliced through it instantly with a sharp twist of her thoughts. _Don't tell me you don't know that while you're in my mind, your thoughts are broadcasted to me as if they were my own? That's one of my special talents._ Gethen's mental voice twisted with malice.

 _What_? Her mind was impenetrable—or was supposed to be, anyway. That's the way the Black Swan had created her to be. Only a select few could break through her mental blocking, and among them were Mr. Forkle and Fitz.

 _That's right_ , Gethen realized, and Sophie could hear a grin through his words. _You've never_ been _inside my mind, have you? You're always hiding like a pussy behind that fuckboy Forkle_.

Her anger flared. _He's not a ... a ..._

 _Fuckboy?_

 _Yes, that._ Sophie cringed at the thought of him being able to read her thoughts and finish her sentences, chiding herself. This conversation was going absolutely nowhere. She had to keep him distracted.

 _Yeah, that would be a lot easier if everything you were thinking_ wasn't _being transmitted straight to my mind._ He groaned. _Your mental voice is really annoying, you know that? Aren't you supposed to be a Polyglot or something? Mimic someone._

An idea began to churn in her mind and she grinned. _All right_. She tried to recollect the cold, hard, and somehow ... welcoming?—voice that the jogger with the crescent-shaped bite mark had used when Fitz had first come to pick her up to go to the Lost Cities. _Why were you learning French_?

She grinned when she _heard_ the cringe in Gethen's voice as she mimicked his own. _Stop that_.

 _Why should_ _I_? Sophie made sure to keep her voice exactly like his.

He scowled. _Keep that up and I'll start setting traps in here again_.

Sophie paused and scanned the area. It was true; the webs that Gethen had placed in his mind to deter her had dissipated, although she had yet to see the man himself. She saw her chance to seize some information since his guard seemed to be down. With that, she called to Fitz for a surge of mental energy and tried to find Gethen in his mindscape. The traps went back up immediately. She reverted to her normal voice, hating herself for almost sounding pouty. _Why did you take the traps down in the first place_?

 _Your voice is muffled when I put up the webs. Because they're a mimic of a typical Psioniopathic ability, they get some interference and sound like static in my head since I'm not a Psioniopath._

She blinked. _That must be one of the longest, non-insulting sentences you've ever said to me._

 _Don't get used to it. I have to explain everything very thoroughly if I want to get anyshit through your dense skull._

 _I'm not_ dense _._

 _Right_ , because _not realizing Gisella's boy's obsession with you is actually a testament to your intelligence._

A prickly feeling enveloped her and her mind went fuzzy, not knowing what to do with the information. She knew that this conversation would breach topics that she didn't enjoy talking about, but she wasn't expecting _that_.

 _Ha, does that make you uncomforta_ _ble_? _I'll change the subject_ , _then_. _What day is it_?

Sophie could sense the eagerness in his question and suspected that Mr. Forkle would not appreciate her revealing that information to him. It must have had something to do with the Neverseen's plan—one that Gethen probably wasn't a part of, considering his current imprisonment in Lumenaria.

She sensed irritation coming from him as well as an oily form of mockery. _There I go, trying to make you comfortable, and then you go and snub me._

 _It's not like you gave me a better option. I'm going to assume that knowing the date is important to you._

 _Aww, so you'd rather talk about Gisella's_ —

She sent a blast of mental energy toward the direction of his voice, delighted when she cut him off. So there _was_ a way to control him.

To her dismay, his voice returned immediately, in all its sardonic glory. _Was that supposed to do something?  
_

 _It made you stop talking for a moment, didn't it?_

He was a silent for a second. And then four. Five. Twenty. Thinking. Unimpressed. _I'm going to assume that that wasn't your intended goal._

No, but if she did it enough times, she was sure it _would_ , in fact, get her closer to her goal—retrieving some information. Another blast of energy propelled out of her, this time mixed with a bolt of Infliction. She drew upon the emotion reserve Bronte had trained her to stockpile. For some reason, this current conversation with Gethen had yet to make her truly rage, so the withdrawal was necessary.

 _Fuck_ , Gethen's mental voice sputtered when the energy hit him. _The hell was that_?

Sophie felt like a little bit of smugness was necessary after such a victory. _I mixed my mental energy with some anger and Inflicted it on you._

 _Right, I almost forgot_. His snicker sounded pitying. _You're the Black Swan's little science experiment. What was it that they gave you? Double enhanced special abilities?_

 _More like tripl_ — she dared not finish the thought, considering Gethen could hear them. There was no need for him to know anything about her.

She was too late. _Three special abilities? Wow, they fucking really played Dr. Frankenstein on you, didn't they? Let's see if I can guess the third one._

A rare smirk glossed her lips. Too bad the third special ability wasn't one that normal elves had and stemmed from her alicorn-based genetics. She let her mind go quiet—not stagnant or anything, otherwise, Fitz and Mr. Forkle would go berserk—but quiet, in case she slipped any more important facts, and Gethen happened to be listening.

 _I_ am _listening._

 _Why?  
_

 _I'm not sure what you're asking. Why am I listening?_ He laughed darkly. _I'd have to be stupid not to take advantage of a situation like this._

 _No_ , Sophie corrected. She tried to make her mental voice sound bold and strong. _Why don't you retaliate? All you've done is immobilize me when you've had the chance to do_ so _much worse_. Not that she _wanted_ him to do anything to her.

Gethen's mind went silent, and Sophie wondered if he had checked out altogether. His quietness lengthened to where Sophie instead focused her attention back to untangling his mental energy's viselike grip. When his voice finally returned, it sounded hollow, morose. _I don't get much company here._

Sophie couldn't suppress her gasp. _You're lonely?_

 _Don't say it like that_ , he grumbled, his voice filling with a scowl.

She tried imagining his position, despite all the grotesque and unthinkable things he had done. She imagined her friends, whom she had trusted, leaving her to be captured by the enemy and left all alone in an empty room, with nothing but missing fingernails to show for it. She shuddered at the thought of the form of torture that the Collective had put Gethen through—though she couldn't deny that it was necessary. Sophie tried to brush away any modicum of pity she felt for him—it couldn't erase what he had done.

She huffed. _You couldn't possibly be lonely. There are guards who bring you things, right? I'm sure they're enough company._

Gethen's voice hardened again. _What would you know about 'enough company'? Last time I checked, back in the Forbidden Cities, you were known as 'Friendless Foster'._

 _I was a twelve-year-old in a class of nineteen-year-olds!_ She hated that he had struck a nerve.

His voice practically _glowed_. _I struck a nerve?_

Another bolt of Inflicted mental energy released from somewhere inside her, and this time, Sophie made sure that it was more potent, drawing from the constant flow that Fitz provided.

A gag echoed through the mindscape, coupled with a few labored breaths and coughs. _I see you're getting better with those._ Much _more powerful than your punches, by the way._

She rubbed her Sucker Punch that was fastened on her wrist and tried to remember seeing Gethen's nose before she had entered his mind. It had looked perfectly healed, albeit a _slight_ bit crooked. _You'd know that first hand, wouldn't you?_

Gethen didn't answer.

Sophie breathed out a long breath. This wasn't getting anywhere. Perhaps it was time to leave—no doubt Fitz would be worrying about her, and Mr. Forkle would be prepared with a lecture on how she shouldn't have stayed in the former Neverseen agent's mind for so long.

The moment the thoughts formed in her head, she felt the web around her grow thicker, tighter. Like a vine, it traveled up her body, squeezing her tight from around her waist and neck. Panic ebbed away at her when she realized the same mind trick she had used to cut the web earlier no longer had any effect. _Let me out! Gethen, you ... you ... bastard!  
_

The bonds loosened slightly but still maintained their firm grip. A smirk echoed in Gethen's voice. _I think the proper term is 'bitch'._ He frowned. _Tell me something first, before you go._

 _That depends on what it is._

 _..._ _Do you think you can actually defeat Fintan?_

Sophie blinked. _Of course_. It wasn't a matter if she _could_ or not, but she _had_ to. After all the innocent people he had hurt and all the havoc he had created in the Lost Cities, there was no way that she could let him get away with what he'd done. With her friends and powerful allies on her side, there was _no way_ that Fintan could possibly prevail.

 _How naïve_ , Gethen noted, almost woefully. _If you want to leave here with a secret for your Black Swan friends, I'll tell you one: you can't defeat_ me, _therefore you can't defeat Fintan._

She raised a mental eyebrow. _And what makes you say that?_

 _Fintan_ , he began, _is weak_ —

— _But you just that if I can't defeat you_ — _which I_ can _do, if I keep up with my Inflicted energy blasts_ — _then I can't defeat Fintan. That insinuates that he's more powerful than you._

 _Wow. You're more of a stupid freak than I thought. I said you_ can't _defeat me. Because I won't let you_ and _because there's never been a Telepath better than me born in the Lost Cities_. _But, if for whatever reason you can, getting to Fintan is easy. He's weak. Pathetic. Anything that his consciousness abhors_ — _which, in essence, is everything he does_ — _he has to hide in his caché; otherwise, his weak-ass mind will break._

A psychotic grin took hold of his face, nearly splitting it in half. _But, me? Blood, gore, death_ — _I've seen, done, and remembered it all. Everything a normal elf would be mentally compelled to forget, I've seen it and taken it in stride. I don't need some half-ass caché to forget it all for me. I_ live _to remember._

Sophie gulped. Everything Gethen had just said confirmed her suspicions. Yes, Fintan needed to _die_. He _killed_ Kenric. He was _instrumental_ in the deaths of _so many people_. But so was Gethen. The thing that made Gethen scarier than Fintan was that like some true Earth television show villain, he _didn't feel any remorse_. If Fintan needed to wash away his memories to prevent his mind from breaking, it proved that he had some sort of consciousness.

 _You're horrible_. This time, Sophie summoned a tidal wave of emotions—fear, pain, anger, dread, worry, fear, doubt, fury, hate, fearfearfear and channeled her mental energy, hurling it right in the direction of Gethen's disembodied voice. So much energy was propelled into the attack that any feelings she felt faded into the background and she became numb.

 _Sophie, are you okay_? came Fitz's frenzied voice.

Her breaths were labored and she answered, _I'm good. Just a little drained._

 _I'll send you some more energy._

While he did that, Sophie scanned the area. Her surge of mental energy had dispelled any traps that Gethen had placed, including the webs. His mind had gone eerily silent ... _... ... Gethen?_

Moments later, a weak voice thundered like a storm. _Why didn't you kill me? All—all you did was send an obscene amount of mental energy. You didn't Inflict on me at all ..._

His tone asked the question she herself was wondering: _why did you hold back?_

Why didn't she end Gethen right then and there? All she had to do was release those emotions, the _fear_ , along with her mental energy and the deed would have been done. Gethen would have been no more.

The answer came to her. Sophie gulped. _I'm not like you, Gethen_. She wasn't going to kill anyone with or without a nagging conscience—which she had.

They were both silent for a few moments. Then, Sophie felt it—the pressure. In her weakened state, she felt Gethen's mental energy surround her, pushing—no, _shoving_ her out of his mind. She let the pressure drag her out—she hadn't found anything useful, but there was no way that she was staying in this mind anymore.

Just before she completely lost contact with Gethen, she heard a soft voice whisper, _you want a real secret? Next time you see Fintan, be careful, be wary. Don't let your guard down for even a second. Don't believe a word he says._

 _Because that will be the day it all comes crashing down._

* * *

 **Please review if you enjoyed!**


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